


According to the Dictionary, I'm Right (and This is Meant to Be)

by LavenderWater



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Depressive Episode, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Isak makes his boy feel better, M/M, Talk of Parallel Universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:02:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavenderWater/pseuds/LavenderWater
Summary: During a depressive episode, Even says something a little too self-depreciating for Isak's taste. He decides to set him right with a little help from the dictionary.





	According to the Dictionary, I'm Right (and This is Meant to Be)

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this isn't my best work, but the idea came to me while I was supposed to be paying attention during lecture and wouldn't leave me alone until I came home and wrote it. I hope you enjoy it. <3

Isak quietly toes off his shoes in the entry hallway of their apartment, precariously balancing his bookbag and the sack of food he had picked up on his way home from school. At this point it’s second nature for him to transition into the gentle, silent atmosphere, already channeling what Even needs before he even sees the other boy. He doesn’t need to see him to know, though. After months of being together, Isak prides himself on the fact that they can read each other with an ease similar to reading a picture book for children. It’s just something that they do. 

The flat is completely silent: no music, no pretentious foreign film, not even any lights on. The blinds- which Isak opened this morning before he left for his first class- are pulled tightly shut against the last fading rays of sunlight, the only real indication that Even has moved at all today. 

The high hadn’t been that high, definitely not the worst that they had dealt with. Not by a long shot. But the low was much lower than Isak had been expecting. He was mildly shocked when the first signs of depression taking hold had started showing, but he knew that it would be okay because it was always okay. They would make it through this the same as always: minute by minute. 

So far that had consisted of cuddling his boyfriend, running his fingers soothingly through his hair, making him dinners that he hardly touched (to be fair, Isak hardly ate it either as it tasted a little too much like ass to be considered good), playing movies or music softly in the background, and giving Even space whenever he needed. In those times, Isak would usually sit at the small table across the room and work on his assignments or he would play Words With Friends with either Eskild or Jonas. That was supposed to be a pleasant distraction for him but it had quickly escalated to the point where their thick dictionary they had bought at a garage sale was taking up permanent residence on the kitchen table. If those fuckers wanted to play dirty, Isak could play dirty. He was practically rolling in puddles of mud with how many times he’s won using some overly-extravagant, ridiculous word that’s been extinct in human language since probably the 1980s.

The point is, Isak’s been doing everything he can to ease the overwhelming pain and darkness that Even’s battling. Sometimes he wishes he was a hipster film-nerd like Even so that he could capture the raw extent of his feelings about his boyfriend on film and show it to him whenever he felt insecure and down like his boy had done for him. But the simple fact is he’s not talented like that, so he just has to make do with what he has, and what he has today is two hot bowls of noodle soup from the small cafe on the corner they both like. 

Leaning his bookbag against the wall, Isak sets the food down on their bedside table and slowly crawls onto the bed, careful not to jostle it too much. Even is laying just slightly off from the center of the bed, wrapped up in the entirety of their blue and grey duvet and what Isak thinks is one of his hoodies, but it’s hard to tell as the only part of the clothing visible is the grey hood currently covering Even’s head and almost shielding his piercing eyes from view. 

“Hei, baby,” Isak whispers. He brushes the hood back slightly to run his fingers through some of Even’s hair. It’s slightly greasy like he hasn’t washed it in several days- he hasn’t- but Isak makes no appearance of being bothered by it- he isn’t- he just continues to gently detangle some of the strands with his fingers. 

Even doesn’t acknowledge him other than focusing his eyes on Isak’s chest, staring at the material of his t-shirt. Isak wasn’t really anticipating an elaborate answer. He’s quite pleased with what he’s given, so he leans forward and presses a kiss against Even’s forehead. 

“I picked us up some soup from the cafe on the corner. Figured I’d take mercy on both of us and not cook tonight,” he leans back a fraction and rubs his thumb along Even’s cheekbone, “Do you think you’re up for trying to eat some?”

He watches the ocean orbs slowly travel the distance to look at the brown paper sack sitting on the nightstand. By now the scent of the noodles has wafted through the small room reminding Isak’s stomach that he hasn’t eaten since lunch almost four hours ago, but he’s content to give Even the time he needs. Even would give Isak a lifetime to adjust, to think, and Isak has no qualms about doing the same for him.

After a few more minutes Even begins untangling himself from the duvet to push himself into a sitting position, and Isak takes it as his cue to move over and pull the Styrofoam bowls from the bag. While he’s near the nightstand he takes the opportunity to pull his phone from his pocket and set it down for the first time since he left home earlier. The thing has been practically glued to his body all day in case Even sent him a text that he needed him at home. He’d ran a mini marathon to get to Even once before, he’d do it again. Biology be damned. 

Gingerly, Even accepts the proffered bowl and spoon. 

“It’s pretty hot, so you’ll probably have to blow on-” The words die in Isak’s throat when he turns around from getting his own food. Even’s already begun shoveling the noodles into his mouth, and either his tongue is immune to burning after all of the scorching tea and coffee he’s downed, too impatient to wait for it to cool, or else Even’s really fucking hungry. Isak hopes he’s developed a super tongue, he really does. He doesn’t want to think about the implications of Even being so hungry that he’s willing to risk first-degree mouth burns. 

They eat in relative silence save for the ticking of the clock on the wall and the occasional car passing by on the street below, throwing slivers of light into the room through the slits in the blinds. There’s an eerie feeling that accompanies the rectangular luminescence passing through the mostly shadowed room. The odd lighting causes Even to look more ethereal and angelic in his beauty than normal. It reminds Isak of a scene from one of Even’s overrated movies, painful in the way that the beauty rises from both tragedy and hope. It’s almost symbolic of Even throwing his entire being into something because it makes him feel. 

In the end, Even only ends up finishing about half of his supper, and once Isak’s scraped his bowl clean, he grabs the trash and leftovers to take into the kitchen. On his way off the bed, he pecks Even’s cheek, murmuring “love you” against his jaw. 

When he returns, Even is once again huddled under a mountain of blankets, staring at the ceiling. There’s a corner of the duvet pulled back, a clear invitation for Isak to join him in the warm shelter, which he does without hesitation. He covers himself in the blankets and curls into Even’s side, pressing his lips against his temple before resting his forehead there. 

It’s quiet and warm and Even smells like comfort and home. Growing up, Isak had fantasized about having a safe, loving home but he’d never actually thought he would find it, or that he would find it in a person. Lying here with Even, he’s more content than he’s ever been, and he knows that it’s hard right now but he would never ask for anything more or different. 

Even moving causes Isak, who had started to doze off to the gentle sound of his boy’s breathing and heartbeat under his hand, to open his eyes and look up. Piercing blue eyes flit away from his face once he realizes he’s being watched. 

“Do you think-” Even’s voice gives out. He heaves a sigh and squeezes his eyes shut, trying again to voice whatever’s on his mind. “Do you think in a parallel universe there’s an Even who isn’t bipolar?” He swallows hard. “An Even who actually deserves you?” 

And… what the hell? How could Even even think that? Does he actually think that about himself? About Isak? About them? 

It’s just the right shade of fucked up and Isak’s so sick of hearing his boyfriend talk shit about the man of his life that he doesn’t react like he normally would. Or maybe he does react like he normally would if Even weren’t in the process of digging himself out of a depressive episode. Either way, he gets inadvertently pissed. 

He snaps up faster than he thought possible, causing something to crack unpleasantly in his neck. “That’s it,” he bites out, flinging the blankets off of himself with enough force to throw some of them off of Even as well as the bed, “That is it! I am so fucking done!”

Storming off, he misses the way his boyfriend’s eyes widen slightly in panic as he reaches out for him weakly. As Even’s eyes squeeze shut against the panic and sight of the love of his life walking out the door to never return, Isak angrily stumbles into the kitchen and seizes the dictionary from the table. 

In the next moment, he’s throwing it down on the bed beside a heartbroken Even who startles as the book bounces heavily from the force of impact. He looks confused to see Isak towering beside the bed but doesn’t say anything as he sits down and starts tearing through the pages. A few of the sheets rip in his haste, the corner of one page almost cutting his index finger. Isak doesn’t care, though, he’s a man on a fucking mission. 

He’d seen it a few days ago while he was midbattle in Words With Friends with Jonas, who Isak was pretty sure was cheating and getting help from Eva. As soon as he saw it he had thought of Even, had made a mental note to show it to him. This isn’t how he had planned on doing it but it was as good a time as any other, and clearly it was necessary. 

Locating the p’s, he skims down the page until he finds the word he’s looking for. 

“Aha! Perfect,” Isak says, clearing his throat. Even’s looking at him with a slightly raised eyebrow. “According to the fucking dictionary, the definition for perfect is, and I quote,” he holds up his finger, “‘having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be.’” He shuts the dictionary with an audible smack. “It doesn’t mean that there is nothing wrong or abnormal or lacking somehow. No, it means that everything that is important, that is needed, is there, and Even,” he takes a breath, gaze boring into Even’s eyes, “Even, that is literally you.”

Even opens his mouth to argue, but Isak quickly cuts him off. He’s not done, not by a long shot. This is something he’s thought about a lot and in depth, and he’s going to lay his musings out for Even now. 

“No. Look, to me and for me, you are perfect. I can’t imagine being with anyone else, and I don’t want to either. When I first started looking into parallel universes, I thought like that too. I wondered if there was some universe where I wasn’t gay, but that’s not how it works. And it took me meeting you, being with you, to finally realize that and accept myself for who I really am. Do you even understand how important that is to me, how much that means? You made my life real. Because of you I have a relationship with my mother. Like an actual relationship. I have a home and friends who I’m actually no longer secretly afraid of or ashamed to show the real me. You are everything that I need, everything that I want; and, correct me if I’m wrong, which I’m not, but doesn’t that fit the fucking definition to a God damn T?

“I don’t love you in spite of you being bipolar, and I don’t love you because of it. I love you because you’re you, and that’s a part of you. I wouldn’t change it because that would change you and I would rather fucking die than do that. 

“So, no, I don’t think there’s a parallel universe with an Even who isn’t bipolar. This is the way it is in every universe regardless of time, space, or any other shit. It doesn’t matter if it’s a universe with purple dinosaurs shooting rainbows out their asses, because even there I’m gay and you’re bipolar. I love you and you’re perfect. That’s the way it is in every universe. It’s probably written in a physics book somewhere or carved into some stone because you and me,” he pauses and raises his eyebrows, gesturing between them, “that’s a fucking law of the universes.”

With his speech finished, Isak is left breathing heavy, staring at Even whose eyes are wide with bewilderment and shock. Isak doesn’t know why he struggles to share his emotions or why he overshares when he gets upset, but he does. Maybe that’s a rule of the universe too. 

He wipes his eyes, unsure of when the tears gathering in his eyes had spilled over, and averts his gaze to the bed. Absentmindedly, he starts picking at a loose string on the sleeve of Even’s hoodie. 

Even turns his arm so that his hand is laying palm up and gently intertwines his fingers with Isak’s. He seems a little unsure when he asks, “What if it’s a universe where that kind of stuff doesn’t apply?” Isak’s about to cry out of frustration because did Even not listen to a single thing that came out of his mouth not even five minutes ago, when he follows up with, “What if it’s a universe where I’m like- I don’t know- a bird?”

It’s the last thing Isak excepts to come out of his mouth. He’d put The Notebook on yesterday on Netflix as background noise. Obviously, Even had been paying more attention than Isak had thought. 

He laughs wetly and rests his forehead against Even’s. “Then I’m a bird, too. And I love you.”

For the first time in almost a week, Isak watches as Even smiles and it actually reaches his eyes, causing the fizzled blue to spark back to life. “I love you, too.” He brushes the tip of his nose gently over the bridge of Isak’s in such a vulnerable and fragile way that tears spring to Isak’s eyes again. “I love you so fucking much. You don’t even know, baby.”

Isak shakes his head because, “I think I have a pretty good idea.” 

And that’s all they really need to say. They’re both exhausted, physically and emotionally, so they wordlessly rearrange themselves so that they’re again wrapped up in the blankets and each other. They’re so close together that, under the blankets, Isak can’t tell where he ends and Even begins. It’s intimate and just so them that Isak feels his heart beat shift to align with the one beating under his hand. 

The last thing he thinks before he falls asleep after sharing a sweet, lingering kiss with Even is that this is the way that it was always meant to be. 

They don’t talk about it again, but a week later after Even’s feeling remarkably like himself again, Isak wakes to find a piece of paper on the pillow beside him. Picking it up to inspect it, Isak can’t help the carefree laugh that bubbles up in his chest or the way that his heart squeezes a little. 

The paper is split into two sections. On the left side, there’s a drawn image of what can only be him and Even laying in bed together, faces and hair the only thing visible over the blankets covering their bodies. Cartoon Isak has a hand running through the cartoon Even’s hair and a speech bubble above his head declaring, “You’re perfect to me.” 

At the top of the other half of the page written in Even’s messy scrawl are the words “at the same time in a different place in the universe.” Below that is a picture of Isak and Even sitting together in a cave holding hands. Above the image of cartoon Even is a speech bubble that reads, “To me, you’re perfect too.” But that’s not the most remarkable thing about the drawing. 

No, that title goes to the giant, purple dinosaur stomping around in the background behind the cave that picture Isak and Even are in. Trailing behind the creature is a string of various colors, clearly supposed to symbolize the rainbow that is being shot out of its ass. 

Isak stares at the drawing for a few minutes, running his fingers over the paper. God, he loves this boy.

Getting up from the bed, Isak walks over to the wall that houses their other pictures and Even’s drawings. He tapes the new picture up beside some Nas lyrics and snaps a photo of it to send to Even with a purple heart emoji. 

Sure, he might not have the artistic talent to make videos devoted to Even or to draw him murals capturing all of his beauty inside and out, but he does have other talents and ways to give his precious boy all of the love residing in his heart, mind, and soul for him. And Isak thinks he’s doing a pretty damn good job.


End file.
